Complicated
by Lioness Black
Summary: [oneshot]It's five years later, and Mark has a new life.


Title: Complicated   
Author: Lioness Black  
Rating: PG-13/T  
Warnings: Mentions character death   
Disclaimer: Not mine, just good fun.

* * *

"Great," Mark muttered. "It's raining." 

He looked into the mirror by the door of his apartment and adjusted his tie. No matter how often he wore ties, he still couldn't get used to it. He always felt like his was choking.

Maybe he still clung to the idea that ties were worn to hang yourself.

He grabbed his umbrella from the closet and turned back to the small, one bedroom apartment. "I'll be back tonight. Don't wait up."

There was no response.

Mark shook his head, laughing at himself. "I'm a crazy cat lady."

He braved the rain down to the subway entrance. He tossed a quarter in the cup of a bum on the street, and received nothing of a thank you, but he didn't mind. He never expected one.

After the subway, he got out the umbrella again and walked up the street to his building. He went in, and waved to the security guard.

Mark was well known by the custodial staff, and the security. He, without making a point to do so, had struck up conversations, where anyone else in the business wouldn't have looked twice.

He had some idea what their lives were like. They were something like his.

Mark took the elevator to the tenth floor. He walked through the sea of cubicles to the office in the back of the room. He dropped his briefcase next to the desk, and went to make a couple cups of coffee. One was plain black, the other with milk added. He walked back to the office.

"Mark!"

"Hey, Benny. Here's your coffee."

"Thanks, man." Benjamin Coffin the third. Mark's roommate in college, and then again after college, and now, Mark's boss.

Being Benny's assistant (a fancy word for secretary?) wasn't Mark's idea of a good time. But three years ago, after Mimi passed away, and Roger _ran_ away, Mark couldn't afford to live alone. Unless, of course, he got a job. He worked minimum wage jobs for three months before Benny offered him a decent, well paying job at the new software company his father-in-law had bought into.

Sometimes, when he thinks about it too much, the idea is overwhelming and embarrassing, but then he realizes that it's not too bad. He has a nice apartment, a cat, he doesn't go hungry, or freeze in the winter.

Things could seriously be worse.

Benny and Mark walked back to the office.

"What am I looking at today?" Benny asked.

Mark sat down at the desk in front of Benny's office. "You've got a ten o'clock with Owen Lasseter, an eleven-thirty with Rachel Redgrave, and lunch at one with Alison."

"Alison, that's right," Benny said. "If she calls, I'm not available, and I'll see her at lunch."

"You got it."

Benny went into the office and closed the door. Mark relaxed into his chair. Now, the boring, never ending part of his job. He pulled Minesweeper up on his fancy Windows 95 PC. He sighed, and tried to beat his record while he waited for the phone to ring.

---

"Mark?"

Mark spun his chair around to look at Benny. "What's up?"

"Cancel my lunch with Alison."

"This is the third lunch you've canceled in a month, you know that, right?"

Benny sighed. "Yeah, I know. But come on, I'm swamped. Give her one of those terribly creative stories you have. You're always good for it."

Mark nodded. It was his job to lie to Benny's wife. It was the part of his job, over the ties, the soul-sucking rat race, and lack of creativity, that he hated the most. Mark had perfected lies for Benny, who insisted that at least the lies were a creative outlet.

He picked up the phone and hit Alison's number on the speed-dial.

"Hello?"

"Alison? It's Mark."

She sighed. "What's the story this time?"

"I overbooked Benny's meetings today. He's practically forced-"

"Mark, you and I both know that you wouldn't do that. I don't even know why I try to plan these things... I talk to you more than I talk to Benny."

"Uh, that's-"

"It's completely true. Hey, why don't you join me for lunch? No sense wasting the reservation. And those snooty restaurants get, well, snooty, if you don't bring the amount of party you told them you'd have."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Mark said.

"It's your lunch hour too, you know. You shouldn't waste it, sitting at the office. Not when you can get a free meal. On Benny, of course."

"Well... okay."

"Great. I'll see you." Alison hung up.

Mark set the phone down on the base, feeling like he was doing something horribly wrong.

It's just lunch, he told himself. Just lunch. With Benny's wife. But it doesn't mean anything. It's just lunch.

Mark had known Alison since she and Benny had met back in college, and dated off and on until they finally ended up married. He had never been especially close to her, or even liked her that much until these recent years. She wasn't fooled for a second by Benny's infidelity, but stayed with him for the sake of her father's company.

When Mark got up for lunch, he felt a lot better about this whole thing, since he could hear the sounds of Benny's latest in-office romance through the door. He couldn't really feel guilty about Benny when that was the last thing in his memory.

He went inside the restaurant, feeling awkward in such a fancy place. "Uh, Coffin party?"

"This way, sir."

"Hey," Alison said smiling as Mark sat down. She was really, rather pretty, blonde hair, brown eyes, but not the sort of girl people double-take at. Behind the glamor she radiated, with her fancy clothes, and expensive perfume, was someone actually rather plain. "I haven't actually seen you since... company Christmas party. How are you doing?"

"Okay. Busy. Work." Mark adjusted his tie.

"That happens. I work mostly in fundraisers, all of that. It's pretentious, and everyone just donates the money to see how good they can look. It's, really, actually, pretty awful. But, in the end, the money goes to the charities, so I guess it's okay."

"Uh, what-" Mark coughed and he took a drink of water. He thought it was time to start using more than one word sentences, but that second word got caught in his throat. "What are you fund raising for right now?"

"AIDS research," she replied.

"Really?" That got him interested. "How's it going?"

"It's going really well. There's a benefit dinner this Friday, but I'm freaking out. Our speaker canceled, and now everyone's just getting a five hundred dollar a plate dinner with no idea why they're there." Alison paused and gave Mark a strange look. "Didn't you...?"

"I don't have- I didn't-"

"But you knew people, right?"

"Years ago." Mark took another drink of water.

"Time doesn't make a difference when it was something, or someone, important. I don't know the details, Benny never talked about it. Your friend, what was his name?"

"Angel."

"Right, and, then Mimi."

"Yeah."

Alison's face grew apologetic. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry! Why am I even bringing this up? This is horrible of me. I'm so sorry, Mark. I shouldn't bring all this up. And I shouldn't ask you to speak... glorifying it all or something."

"Are you trying to use reverse psychology on me?" Mark asked.

"No, but is it working?"

He laughed. "Yeah, it is. But... how are you going to introduce me? My husband's lowly employee?"

"Wait? You're going to do it?"

Mark nodded. "Anything I can do to help."

"You are my savior!" Alison jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. She sat back down. "And you are _not_ just an employee. You're a good friend. I'm completely indebted to you."

"What am I supposed to say? I'm not... I'm not a public speaker. Anything I ever did was behind a camera, narrating. But I could edit it out if it was horrible."

"Just talk about your experiences. How AIDS has affected your life, especially considering you don't even have it. The idea behind the speakers are to inspire people to give, to, to..." She waved her hand, trying to come up with the right words. "To make people want to help."

"To make them feel sorry for the queer boho kids with AIDS," Mark supplied.

"If it can help save people, what difference does it make the reasons why?"

"It's just... so fake."

Alison nodded. "Yeah, it is. And everyone knows it. But you're not fake, Mark. You're genuine, and I think people will see that. I know I do."

"I guess... I would have done anything if it meant saving my friends. After Mimi died, I lost Roger too. He just... faded out, and left. I have no idea where he went. I haven't heard from him in three years. He's probably..." Mark paused. He had never said those words out loud, and even now he couldn't bear to even think about what might have become of Roger.

She reached across the table and put her hand on Mark's.

"Collins left, moved to California, and he's... he's starting to break down. He sends me letters and e-mail, and I can tell he's getting tired. I hate to say it, but I'm sort of waiting for that call, you know?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never directly known anyone with AIDS," Alison said. "Just through Benny."

Mark nodded. "It's hard, because it's like a waiting game. Every cold, every cough, it's always a big scary, 'is this the last one?' Even simple little things become a huge deal."

"Mark, you are the perfect person to speak. I'm about to cry right now, you're so passionate. I can see why you lived that life. This, all of this, it doesn't really suit you, does it? Why did you stop making films?"

"The money. Or lack of it. And now I just don't have the time. Besides, I still have the 1989 vision. I'm probably not too updated."

"Maybe someday," Alison said.

"Maybe."

After lunch, Alison rested her hand on Mark's shoulder. "Call me on Friday, and I'll give you directions, and all the information you'll need."

"Do I need to get like a... tux, or something?" Mark asked.

"Oh, well... Mark, I don't know how to say this without sounding rude, but, you'd probably look silly in a tux."

He laughed. "You're probably right."

"It's a black tie event, but you're the speaker, so you could probably get away with, I mean, what you're wearing right now would be okay. Or something like it. It doesn't really matter. You could show up in jeans and a sweater and I really wouldn't care."

Mark nodded. "Okay, I'll throw something together."

"Great. And thank you so much, Mark. You don't know what this means to me. And not just the pleasing the crowds of money flashers waiting to get their asses kissed, it means a lot that you're taking the time to do this."

"It's important," he replied.

She kissed his cheek. "So, I'll talk to you soon."

Mark went back to work, feeling perfectly fine, especially when a strange red head walked out of Benny's office. But then he had a thought. What was Benny going to say when he showed up at the fundraiser on Friday? How was he going to explain that?

Cheaters are the first to accuse their spouses (or assistants who depend on their jobs) of cheating. Even when nothing wrong has been done.

He hoped Alison would figure out that one.

---

Friday night.

Mark had changed into his best suit, spent probably far too long on his hair, and considered, more than once, calling Alison and canceling.

Instead, he was walking out the door and into the taxi. It was the shortest ride across town he had ever taken. Did they have to hit every green light? Where were the pissed off cabbies and pedestrians that they could be hitting?

Alison met him outside.

"Do I look okay?" he asked.

"You look great. You'll fit right in. Just relax, okay?"

"Is, uh, Benny here?"

"No, he never comes to these things," Alison replied. "Breath, Mark. If you pass out, it won't do anyone any good. This is how it's going to go. We'll eat, and you'll start your speech over dessert."

"I don't get dessert?" He felt a smile on his lips.

"I'll save you some," she said, laughing.

"Oh, hey, Alison?"

"Yeah?"

"You look great too."

She smiled and blushed, her cheeks becoming the same rose color as her dress. "Thanks."

Mark ate some of his dinner. From what he could tell, it tasted great, but it was a tough call, since his jaw didn't seem to be working properly.

Alison stood up. "I'd like to thank everyone for coming, and I'm so happy to introduce a personal friend of mine who has experienced the devastating effects of AIDS personally. If everyone would please give a round of applause for Mark Cohen."

There was applause, and Mark thought he heard a loud whistle, but in this conservative, upper crust group, he found that unlikely. He chalked it up to nerves. He stood at the microphone next to her.

"Thanks- thank you. Alison," he said.

She patted his shoulder, and smiled reassuringly before she sat down.

Mark looked out at the sea of faces, expecting something moving and great. He took a deep breath. "I'm Mark, and I work with Alison's husband, Benny." He figured it was okay to leave out that he worked _for_ Benny.

"Benny is actually where the story begins. I met him when we went to college together at Brown, and we were roommates. After college, I moved to New York, and into a loft with two other guys. I invited Benny to move in with us, and for a few years, that's how it was.

"You know how times goes on, things change. We all had our share of girlfriends, and even some of us, not, uh, me, but, uh, had boyfriends. We lived a scraped together, just trying to make it sort of life. We were artists.

"The people we met were the people who changed our lives. Five years ago, you might have seen a drummer on the streets. You might have tossed him a quarter, you might not have. That drummer was Angel Dumott Schunard. He... she died in 1990 of HIV. Two years later, my roommate, Roger, who also had HIV, his girlfriend, Mimi, died because of it.

"I'm not telling you these things because I want you to give money because I have a sob story. This isn't about the people I know who died. This is about the people I know who were so lost after those deaths that they went as far from the memories as possible. The people who would have done anything for another month, or even another day. But there wasn't anything they could do." Mark swallowed, unable to believe that he had said all of those things and hardly stumbled over his words. He realized that he couldn't say anything else.

"Thank you," he said, slipping away from the podium. There was a polite applause, and another one of those whistles.

After the dinner, Alison came up to him. "That was great. A little short, but you got the point across. Do you feel like you sold out, talking about it for the sake of money?"

"Not really," Mark admitted. "It... I haven't brought that up in years. It felt, actually, pretty good to talk about it. In front of a bunch of people wasn't the ideal place, but, I did what I could."

She wrapped her arms around Mark's neck. "You were fantastic," she whispered before kissing him. He kissed her back for a moment, and then pulled away.

"I can't. You're Benny's wife."

"You know just as well as I do that I'm only Benny's wife because I haven't divorced him. Mark, you're amazing. And not just because you got up and spoke, and what you spoke about. You're a genuine person. You don't have ulterior motives."

"That's why I probably... can't."

"You said probably."

He nodded. "I know I did."

"We were going to come talk to Mark, but I think we might want to wait our turn!"

Mark turned around, out of Alison's grasp. His eyes grew wide. "Maureen? Joanne? What? What are you doing here? I haven't seen you two in years!"

Maureen jumped on him with a hug.

"We just moved back to the city," Joanne said, giving Mark a hug after Maureen had practically strangled him. "I got transferred back here. I donate to research, and it was just a fluke that we were here the same night as you."

"Your speech was great, Marky," Maureen said, bouncing from one foot to the other.

"Thanks- that was_ you_ whistling!" Mark pointed at her.

"Yaay! You heard!"

He laughed. "Yeah, I did. I thought I was going nuts. That didn't seem like the whistling crowd."

"Was that your girlfriend?" Joanne asked.

Mark turned. Alison had already gone. He looked back at Joanne. "No, that's, uh, Alison. Benny's wife."

"You were mackin' on Benny's wife?" Maureen's jaw dropped.

"No, she was actually, uh, macking on me." The slang sounded awkward in Mark's mouth, where it was easy from Maureen.

"Wow."

"Is it right that you work with Benny?" Joanne asked. "I mean, that's..."

"Corporate America, I know. And, truthfully, I work _for_ Benny. I'm his assistant."

Maureen snickered. "Sorry, Mark, that has gay porn written all over it."

Joanne covered her laugh with a cough. Even Mark cracked a smile.

"It's boring, and stupid, and pointless," he said, "but I couldn't afford to keep doing what I was doing. I had to change."

"If you hook up with Alison Grey, you can do whatever the hell you want," Maureen said. "You realize that, right?"

"I'm not going to do anything about that. I mean, I couldn't. Not to Benny."

"Maybe I'm holding a grudge. Maybe Benny's changed since the last time I saw him, but I don't think Benny's feelings should even be coming into play. Are you guys friends or something now? You work for him, what does that really mean?"

Before Mark could answer Joanne stepped in.

"Come on, let's go out for some drinks."

"That sounds good," Mark replied.

---

After four beers, Mark was much more willing to talk about his life.

"Benny's an ass," he said. "He did me a huge favor, getting me this gig, but he treats me like shit, he treats Alison like dirt, and he cheats on her."

"Fucker!" Maureen cried.

"Let me get this straight," said Joanne, the only remotely sober one. "He's a jerk, he cheats, and you're still concerned about taking his wife out from underneath of him? You're obviously the better man here, Mark."

"How do you know I haven't changed?" Mark asked. "How do you know that I'm not a jerk too?"

"For one, the guy who made that speech tonight isn't a jerk. And then there's you taking Benny's feelings into consideration. You might have a new nine-to-five job and a fancy suit, but you haven't changed."

"I'm going to get fired."

"Fucker!" Maureen cried again.

"Maybe, but Maureen was right. You hook up with Alison, you can go back to making films if you want."

"God," Mark said. "Do you know how much I want to make films? I feel like I've been treading water and I'm drowning without a camera in my hands. I haven't done anything in so long. I have a cat. But... Alison is..."

"Alison is?" Joanne prompted.

"She's great. I'm sorry we called her Muffy all those years. That was mean."

"Calling her names behind her back five years ago doesn't mean you should not do what you want to do. Are you interested in her?"

"She knows how to kiss."

"I'd tap that," Maureen said. "Go for it, Pookie."

Joanne rolled her eyes. "Though I would have phrased it differently, Maureen is right. If you want her, and she's throwing herself at you? Make your move! There is absolutely no reason why you shouldn't. Think about what you want for a minute, Mark. It sounds to me like you haven't gotten anything you wanted out of your life. It's time to make a change!"

"You're right!" Mark stumbled off of the bar stool, and went for the door. Joanne grabbed him by the collar.

"Tomorrow. When you're sober."

---

After nursing his hangover (and sleeping on the couch, where Joanne and Maureen had taken over his bed, though that didn't bother him as much as he thought it probably should), Mark ate some toast.

"I hope you don't mind us crashing here," Joanne said. "I couldn't drag Maureen back to our place. She was here, found a bed, and died for the night."

Mark nodded. "It's fine. Not a big deal."

"Are you going over there?"

He nodded.

"Do you know what you're going to say?"

He shook his head. "I'm just going to wing it."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I hope so."

Joanne smiled. "I wrote down our number on that handy little notepad by your phone. You need to give us call after everything and tell us what happened."

"Remember when you hated me?" Mark asked.

"You hated me just as much."

"Yeah, well... after a while, we sort of became friends. Do you think enough time has passed where we could really be friends?"

She nodded. "I think we already are."

Mark smiled. "Good. And I'll definitely call. Either to go out for more beer or to celebrate."

"Which means more beer, right?" Maureen walked into the room wearing one of Mark's shirts.

He looked away from the amazingly familiar sight.

An hour later, Mark found himself standing outside of Benny and Alison's apartment. He knocked on the door before he realized that this building had doorbells. He instantly felt stupid for knocking.

"Shit," he muttered. Then he wondered if he was overreacting. Probably. He took a deep breath.

Alison opened the door. She smiled. "Hey, Mark."

"Hi. Alison."

"Come on in."

He went inside. He had been there a few times before, but it felt different this time.

"Want something to drink, or something?" she asked.

"No, thanks," he replied quickly. "I, uh-"

"Who were those ladies you left with? Friends of yours?"

"Yeah, old friends. That was Maureen, Benny probably damned her name a few times over the years, and Joanne, her partner."

"Yes, that's right. I haven't heard that name in years, Maureen. But I remember. So, what brings you by?"

"You know," he said.

She nodded. "I do know. Benny's not here, if you're worried. Even if he was, you shouldn't be worried. Benny and I... we haven't really be together in two years. I don't even consider what Benny does cheating anymore. We fell out of love a long, long time ago."

"Why didn't you just divorce him?" Mark asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"I don't know. He's a good worker in Daddy's company. If I wasn't interested in anyone else, and as long as I wasn't, why rock the boat? I know you guys, years ago, you just saw me as some spoiled rich girl, and you were right. But even spoiled girls know that if business goes bad, so does the money. Benny makes business good." Alison stepped closer to Mark and put her hand against his cheek. "But I'm interested in someone now. I started scheduling lunches just so he'd cancel and you'd call me. It took me weeks to get up the nerve to ask you to come to lunch with me."

"Rea-really?"

She kissed him, and this time he kissed her back without reservation.

"Wow," Mark muttered when they parted. "What- what now?"

"You need to go quit your job. I'm going to make it very clear that Benny should keep his job, but I think if you keep working under him, it might get a little awkward." She nodded knowingly.

"I'm not here for the money, Alison. I don't want to just do nothing because I'm with you. I'm not that kind of guy."

"I wouldn't have _told_ you to quit your job if I thought you were just here for the money. I know you're not that kind of guy. I actually have a job for you, that I think you'll like." She grinned.

Her smile was infectious. He grinned too.

---  
Four months later  
---

"What in the hell are you doing to that poor camera?"

"The date was reading July. It's August," Mark replied. "I have to fix it before the dinner starts, because if I'm going to film... what are they?"

"Tribal dancers," Alison said.

"Right. When the people want their commemorative videos, they're going to want to right date on it, don't you think?"

"Don't be sarcastic at me!" She laughed and kissed him. "Is filming charity dinner theatre terrible? You've been doing it for months, and I'm so scared that you hate it."

"I'm working. I'm working with film. I have time to do my own work. I... get laid. Honestly, I don't hate anything right now."

"Aren't Joanne and Maureen coming tonight?"

"Yes, they are," Mark said.

"So that means you need to get this camera fixed so you can change out of hole-y jeans and greet them before the dinner starts, right?"

"Yes, and you're being a distraction."

Alison leaned down and kissed him. "I love you."

He smiled. "You know I love you too."


End file.
